Shackles of Friendship
by Pyrisath
Summary: The Ylisse-Feroxi army marches to rescue the Exalt and end the Mad King's reign. The fires of war will forge and strengthen the bonds of friendship amongst the Sheperds as they fight for their future in Plegia and beyond.
1. March to War 1

The MU's name is Herjan(Pronounced Hair-Jean). This is mostly because I cannot read the name Robin with imagining a red-chested bird in place of a human being. There is a reason for this name beyond that, but I won't say what. Since I won't be writing the very beginning of the story, here's a summary of how he acquired his nickname, since it will be used often: "Harr… John? Is that foreign? I'll just call you Jean for short."

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**Chapter 1:**

Chrom scowled and clenched his nose against the abrasive smell of the seasonal marshlands. Turning to his friend and tactician, he voiced his foul mood. "Nothing ever goes right for us, does it?"

Wearing a purple cloak stained with the dust of many miles, Herjan stood near a fidgeting Chrom as the last of the wagons was unloaded from the remaining ferry. "I know you are eager to march and cross swords with the Plegians, Chrom, but it would be better to approach this wisely. If we are ambushed at half-strength within that mire, I fear there would be casualties. We have more than enough time to get to the capital and wait for the Feroxi army to catch up."

The Prince stopped, and looked across the wetlands that vexed them. Hard, sandy land was visible in the distance above the chest-high grasses that populated the swamp. "Any delay increases the chance that Emmeryn dies before we can do anything to save her. Besides, any group that attacks us in this mess will be just as disadvantaged as we are."

Herjan walked forward to stand next to Chrom, each step dragging up mud with a sucking sound. "That may be, but I have a bad feeling about this muck. Something waits for us in there, I'm sure of it!"

A hand gripped his shoulder, stopping Herjan from taking himself down any more mental hallways. Chrom was staring at him, a slight frown on his face. "Aren't you the one always counseling me to act on facts, not emotions? The facts are that we have an army that is anxious for action, and at least six hours of sunlight on our side." Chrom's hand clapped Herjan's shoulder and dropped as he began making his way back toward the rest of the company, turning to speak in parting to Herjan with a grin on his face, "You're just as anxious, I think. Why not spend time with the Sheperds tonight instead of your books for once?"

Chrom grinned at the offended face that his tactician put on before facing to address the Sheperds, "Everyone! Take trail rations from a wagon, and stretch your legs. We rest on solid ground tonight!" The order was met with a cheer, albeit lacking enthusiasm.

To the general disappointment of the Sheperds, what felt like several hours of traveling did not appear to have covered significant distance. The sun still beat down on them, the air still smelled like horse shit and rotten vegetables, and the ground still pulled at their every step. The wagons laden with their supplies slowed them down further, as the setting sun made it more difficult for the wagons to choose their paths.

The sense that something was lurking amongst the grasses lingered on the edge of Herjan's thoughts. He sent Sumia and Cordelia up more often than usual to check for any suspicious signs from above, but each of these searches revealed nothing. In his rising paranoia, Herjan took to using high ground to scan their surroundings himself.

During one such of these look-outs, Maribelle slowed her horse to a halt as she passed near him. "Why Herjan, you are the spitting image of a lovesick wife awaiting her husband's return from town. I'm sure that if there was anything nearby, those poor souls you keep sending up to scout would have seen it."

Herjan lowered himself from the tip of his toes, and began walking once more. "I can't shake the feeling that there is something out there… waiting."

Maribelle frowned at him, and urged her horse to begin moving again. "If you can't shake that feeling, then at least stop looking so stressed and anxious over it? You're making the make the rest of us non-psychics jump at our own shadows."

"How can you be so at ease? What do you do with your time in situations such as these? " Herjan looked toward her lap, curious to see if she had a book.

Maribelle shrugged her shoulders, revealing nothing in her hands. "I spend it practicing the more glamorous points of low-born speech, and trying to grasp how you lot can stand speaking that way. Perhaps you might entertain yourself with the other men of this company? I saw them bashing each other with practice weapons near the wagons."

Nodding his thanks, Herjan departed in the direction Maribelle had indicated. Sure enough, he found Lon'qu, Vaike and Stahl trading partners and practice weapons for weapon drills, occasionally breaking their practice to catch up with the lead wagon before beginning another round. Herjan retrieved two additional practice weapons from the appropriate wagon before joining the trio.

Herjan called out to Lon'qu, who was currently the odd man out, and tossed an oak training sword to the swordsmen when he had his attention. "You've an interesting style, Lon'qu. You move fast on the battlefield, but you don't sacrifice strength from your strikes, nor are you inaccurate."

Lon'qu caught the practice weapon, testing its balance with one hand. "Strength is everything in Regna Ferox. I avoid elimination by adapting."

"Then you must be quite experienced," replied Herjan. "Might you teach me a move or two while we travel?"

Lon'qu sized him up before turning to walk forward along the caravan once more, as the last wagon had just passed their training location. He spoke to Herjan as he walked. "You do not have experience in your own form. You would gain more from Stahl or Frederick."

The tactician chuckled, flourishing the practice weapon in his hand. "A dozen dead Risen say otherwise. Besides, Stahl is currently occupied with 'Teach' over there, and Frederick is most likely watching over Chrom at the moment. I don't seek to elope from the Ylissean style to another, only to see what there is to learn from another perspective."

"An interesting thought…" Lon'qu turned to face Herjan, giving him an enigmatic look. "Very well. Ready yourself." Following his own call, the swordsman dropped into a stance, holding the practice weapon at his side as if sheathed. In a swift motion, he had drawn his sword and used the movement of 'unsheathing' to swing at the tactician.

Herjan, not expecting the sudden attack, barely blocked the strike with his own wooden sword. Lon'qu did not relent, reversing the swing to return and strike at Herjan's head, who opted to duck rather than risk a failed parry.

"You have good reaction speed, at the very least." Lon'qu stated, lowering his training sword.

"Do you think you could have warned me we were starting?" Herjan kept his own weapon raised in a guard stance.

Lon'qu shook his head. "No. You asked to learn from my style, didn't you?"

"Well... Yes, but what was I supposed to learn from that?" Herjan replied, still wary.

Since they were no longer engaged in training, Lon'qu began to walk alongside the caravan. "If your opponent expects an attack, he will be ready to retaliate. If you don't warn him, he won't be prepared."

Herjan frowned. "This sounds like a cloak and dagger scheme."

"As our tactician, I had hoped you would understand this concept. It is the advantage of surprise…" A voice shouted Herjan's name, drawing Lon'qu's eyes above the horizon. A Pegasus Knight could be seen approaching rapidly, a flutter of red hair beneath its helmet revealing the identity of the rider.

Herjan raised a hand to signal Cordelia as to where he was. Lon'qu disappeared without a word as he realized what was coming.

A blast of air hit Herjan as Cordelia's Pegasus decelerated and alighted on the ground near him, and the rider herself hopped off her mount to speak to the tactician. There was a light of anticipation in her eyes, but no panic, which Herjan took as a positive sign. As her mouth opened, the bestial scream of a Risen gave away why she had landed. Without missing a beat, the Sheperds began to ready themselves for battle, and Cordelia spoke, "There are two packs of Risen approaching from the east, each close to a dozen in strength." Cordelia indicated the approximate direction of each group. "They were attempting to sneak through the grasses, but they broke cover and began charging once we spotted them."

"Has Chrom been informed?" A nod answered Herjan's question, and he looked around at the wagon's current position. The wagon drivers had stopped their mounts and were looking around in fear, but thankfully they were stopped on a relatively large area of hard ground. "How long till they reach us and how far are we from being on hard land?"

Cordelia stood still as Herjan surveyed the current positioning of the caravan. "We would never reach the end of the mire. It will take us at least another hour to reach dry ground, but the Risen will be on us in less than ten minutes."

Herjan turned at the rapid sound of mud sucking on someone's feet, to see Chrom pulling himself onto the hard ground with the wagons, closely followed by Sumia atop her Pegasus. As the Prince got closer, Herjan calmly relieved a goal he had for that day, "Told you so."

Chrom glared at him, more in annoyance than real anger. "Spare me your heckling 'til later, Jean. What's the plan?"

As Herjan took a moment to formulate his thoughts, Frederick arrived to stand with the usual council. "Lock the wagons together in a makeshift wall, curved outward. Tether the horses on the inside of the wagon wall… Our cavalry has no advantage in this mire, so all mounted units should dismount and keep their horses along with the others."

Much to Herjan's dismay, Chrom instantly accepted his plan. He nodded to Frederick. "Do it. How would you suggest we arrange the Sheperds?"

"Pegasus Knights in the sky to act support wherever the fighting is thickest." Cordelia and Sumia took to the air, and Herjan could have sworn he saw the red haired Knight relax as she remounted and flew away. Herjan smirked, thinking that she had doubted his tactical competence. Shrugging off the thought, he continued, "We each take half the Sheperds, and move to prepare defenses for each pack. Archers and mages take a central position and support both flanks." Quick gestures indicated with directions he thought the Risen would charge from.

Chrom nodded, "Sounds good. I'll take the south section, let's kill these bastards." The Prince moved toward his position, calling the names of the Sheperds that would be part of his group, leaving Vaike, Lon'qu and Stahl with Herjan.

It took almost two minutes for the separate groups to assemble where they were needed. By then, the sound of clumsy legs schlocking through the mud beyond line of sight was quite audible. Doubt began to creep into Herjan's mind as he put more thought to their predicament. Their strategy relied on the Risen following typical patterns, in other words bee-lining to the nearest target like a Taguel in heat. Everything about the current attack came off as abnormal, which would spell trouble if the Risen suddenly decided the archers and mages were more interesting.

The flash-roar of a fireball brought Herjan from his reverie as the first of the Risen broke from the grasses some twenty feet away. The blast staggered it, and an arrow buried itself in the thing's neck, finishing it in a puff of smoke. More of the Risen pack had broken into the clearing in that time, and despite their best attempts, the archers and mages could not pick off every one of them.

The next Risen to break through locked its eyes on Vaike and charged, only to be met with an axe in its chest. Stahl and Lon'qu had similar experiences, each cutting down several Risen apiece. Herjan was relieved by the simplicity of the attack, but one surprise made itself known as the Sheperds busied themselves with finishing the last of the undead things.

Out from the grasses walked what could only be the Chieftain of this pack of Risen, hunched over from its sprint through the mire. As it straightened its back and stood up straight, it revealed itself to stand a full head higher than the tallest of the Risen the Sheperds had seen with bulk to match, and an axe in each hand.

The Chieftain scanned the immediate battlefield before moving to engage Lon'qu, who was already wounded from a struggle with a pike-bearing Risen. Herjan, realizing what the thing was attempting to do, conjured a lightning lance, which he launched toward the Chieftain, connecting with its shoulder and staggering it in a small burst of light.

"Oh, come on!" The lightning bolt had only made the thing angry. Herjan readied his tome for a second strike as the Risen began to slog toward him, and raised his hand to release another bolt into its face… But nothing happened.

Herjan let out a loud curse and hurled the spent tome at the oncoming behemoth, to much less effect than the previous lightning bolt. The thing prepared an arm to swing at Herjan, who reached for his sword, but in his haste pulled at the blade wrong causing him to take an extra second to draw his weapon.

The delay almost cost him his life. He was forced to brace his free hand against the flat of his blade in an attempt to block the Risen Chieftain's horizontal swipe. The strike sent Herjan's meager bronze blade flying out of his hand, and a snapping sound let him know that either the blade or his hand was broken, his mind too distracted to feel pain. The force of the swing pushed him off balance, leaving Herjan stumbling backwards before tripping, crashing down into the mud. The pain that shot up his arm as he landed answered the previous question, and he let out a cry of pain.

The Chieftain took a step forward and stood over the collapsed Herjan, drawing both of its weapons above its head with what seemed like a grin. But before it could drop the overhead smash, a fireball impacted its face, sending the thing reeling back, dropping its arms to cover its face in pain. A thunk heralded the appearance of an arrow in its thigh, and the large Risen was forced back another step.

Adding to Herjan's pain-induced confusion, something large and white appeared above him, and he instinctively covered his face with his free hand as rapidly displaced air hit his eyes. He could not see what was happening, but he heard the large Risen roar and flounder in the mud amidst the rush of wings and a human-sounding battlecry.

The sound of feet crashing through mud faded, and Herjan felt his torso being raised up. His mind cleared as whoever was tending to him eased a sip of vulnerary into his mouth, and he opened his eyes to see Virion tending to him. A second later, Herjan realized the archer's lips were moving. "'Tis not the best of places to lie down and take a nap! Alas, if not for us both being men, this would be the beginning of a wonde-!"

Herjan cut him off, using his free hand to push the jar away from his mouth, and to wipe his mouth with Virion's cravat, much to the man's protest. "Vulnerary won't cut it, Ruffles. I need a healer." He began trying to push himself to a standing position, when a slim gauntleted hand appeared in front of him. He looked up to see that it belonged to Cordelia before taking the proffered hand and rising to his feet.

"Shall Sumia and I hunt it down?" Herjan was shaking his head before Cordelia could finish asking, but his vocal answer was interrupted by the arrival of Chrom.

"No, we need to get moving again as soon as possible. We've wasted enough time in this mess as it is. Cordelia, could you help the wagon drivers get the caravan back on track?" The Pegasus Knight's cheeks flushed bright red and saluted sharply before going about her task. Chrom, oblivious, continued, motioning toward Lon'qu, who was limping from an earlier wound. "Virion, I'm sure Lon'qu has more use for that vulnerary."

Herjan looked at his broken wrist, which was the color of the mud they stood in, and the size of an apple. Still, he chuckled and looked at Chrom. "I did tell you so."

Chrom sighed with a small smile. "That you did, friend. I'm sorry for not hearing your worries. Let's find Lissa and get that wrist taken care of."

"You heard them. You just decided you knew better." Herjan walked with Chrom. The wagons began to move inch by inch as horses were brought back in place. "I've been treating your advice the same, so I should apologize too."

"Oh?" Chrom's brow shot up in curiosity.

Herjan held up his wounded wrist, grinning sheepishly. "Do you think we could scare up some armor when we make camp? Its past time I started specializing, and I'd rather not have this happen again."

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**A/N:**

And that's the first chapter. This chapter, and the next one(which would have been published today as well but there was a decent portion I forgot to write so I'm saving it for next week), feel rather rushed. I don't want to stuff words for the sake of having more words, but I am planning for chapters to become denser and cover longer time periods starting with the third chapter and onwards. Still, these first few chapters will probably be relatively small, featuring characters jumping through dialogue hoops to establish themselves and the beginnings of future development.

Edit: A few changes were made to make the story have a better hook and grab. Title was changed for this purpose as well.


	2. March to War 2

Herjan and Chrom sat in the command tent, which was a round pavilion large enough to comfortably hold the Sheperd's map table, as well five chairs and their occupants, although it was rare for that many to be present in the command tent at once. Flavia and Basilio had raised that number of occupants to four while they finalized the plans for the coming offensive, but the Khans had since returned to their own camp via Pegasus.

Currently, Herjan was attempting to find which straps of his armor he could loosen without destabilizing all of his new armor. The straps pulled at his skin in uncomfortable ways, and the weight of the shoulderguard on his left side forced him to lean to the right to compensate. He had not minded the discomfort of the armor as much when that same shoulder guard saved his life during their engagement with the Grimleal, but sitting down was an entirely different matter. Asking more experienced armor-wearing Sheperds for advice had not helped, as most answers were along the lines of 'Get used to it'.

Chrom, who had been staring at a rough map of the Plegian castle with a pensive expression, looked to Herjan. "What's your take on that new swordsman, Gregor?"

Herjan looked up, torn from his contemplation, and cracked a grin while imitating Gregor's accent, "I think Gregor is very swell sword." The joke earned a laugh from Chrom. "Truth be told, I trust him as much as any other mercenary, but I doubt he will betray us. We're paying him quite well. What do you think?"

"I feel the same. He's quite skilled with the blade, might make a good partner in battle for you. Lissa does tell me that he is fitting in well with the other Sheperds." Chrom approached the entrance to the tent to look outside, letting in a bit of light from the setting sun. "I see Frederick. Might as well stand up now."

With an almighty sigh, Herjan pushed himself to his feet. He had discovered that not moving made him forget about the ways the armor pulled at his body, and standing up reminded him of every strap as if he had just put on the armor.

Chrom gave him a look of bewilderment. "Gods, man! You sound like a love sick Pegasus Knight."

Herjan knew deep down that Chrom was referencing the sighs that Sumia once gave him, but he couldn't help but stare at the Prince incredulously.

"…What?"

Frederick chose that moment to enter the tent, much to Herjan's relief, as it saved him from starting a conversation he did not want to have. The knight saluted his Lord, then set his feet apart and clasped his hands behind his back.

Chrom waved his hand. "At ease, Frederick. Herjan? This is your show."

With Frederick now eyeing the painted wooden blocks assembled on the table before him, Herjan stepped forward to speak. "We will be using a strategy unique to any other that I've devised for us before, hence the set up. Frankly, I've wanted to apply it ever since I read it in a book I found in the Sheperd's garrison. The book was some hundred years old, but the general in it-" Chrom coughed, interrupting Herjan's lecture. "…Sorry. The main purpose of the strategy is push rapidly through an enemy formation with a smaller force, while a kill team ensures the death of a key target, or secures an important objective. The idea behind this strategy is that you need not attack the body of the enemy. If you rip out the throat, the head will die and the body will follow.

"The main force is referred to as the jaw line," Herjan indicated a block that had been painted blue to represent Ylissean forces, "While the kill team is called the spear." He indicated a second, smaller block, painted a similar blue to the first. "In tomorrow's battle, the initial plan is that the Sheperd's will deploy close to the execution site. The Khans will begin their attack on the prisons where Phila and her knights are held. They will signal with a fireball when they begin their attack, which will be when we make ourselves known. Gangrel will most likely be distracted by Chrom's presence, keeping his attention off the Feroxi."

Frederick nodded, taking in the information presented to him. "I assume that Phila's freedom will be pivotal in rescuing the Exalt?"

Herjan grinned, and placed a green block on the table, with little white wings painted on it. "Yes indeed! The Plegians will be forced to send troops to address the attack on the prison, which will leave the main force weaker to the jaw line's push." He pushed the two previously indicated blue blocks closer to a grouping of red blocks. "Frederick, I want you to be in charge of the jaw line. You would be driving a wedge into the Plegian force to confuse and divide them, and I can think of no Sheperd more suitable to that role than you."

The knight nodded in acceptance of his role, patiently waiting for Herjan to finish his explanation.

"Once the jaw line has lost the momentum of its charge, the 'spear' force will break through toward where I predict the enemy commander will be, right _here_." Herjan picked up the smaller blue block, and placed it directly against a similarly sized red block that had a gold band around it. "With the commander dead, the enemy force will be in total disarray. That confusion will give us free reign to bring down key targets such as archers and wyvern riders, giving us command of the skies. Then…!" Herjan placed the winged green block behind the enemy commander, more energy leaking into his voice as his strategy was realized in his own mind. "The freed Pegasus Knights swoop in and rescue Emmeryn, ferrying her to safety. The spear rejoins the jaw, and we rendezvous with the Khan's force in our retreat."

"A fine strategy." Frederick admitted, looking up at the tactician. "But who will be part of the spear force? It will need to be small enough to not take too much strength from the jaw, but still have the force to push through and kill the commander."

Herjan nodded. He had been expecting this question, but he was pleasantly surprised that Frederick had not questioned the basis of the strategy. "I was thinking a force of four would be acceptable. Cordelia and Sumia would give the spear great speed, and—"

"I will ride with Sumia," Chrom cut in, staring hard at Herjan as if daring him to disagree.

Herjan let out a sigh and covered his face with one hand. "That is _one_ option, yes, but…"

Chrom, however, would not hear any of it. "Then it's decided. Frederick, thank you for coming, please rest well for tomorrow."

The knight bowed to Chrom, "M'lord," and nodded to the tactician, "Jean." Frederick made an about face, and exited the tent.

The two were silent for a moment, until Frederick's footsteps faded to silence. Herjan opened his mouth to speak, but Chrom read his thoughts and spoke first. "Don't bother suggesting that I stay away from the front, friend. You won't change my mind."

Herjan dropped into his seat, tugging at the straps of his armor once more. He knew his next line would make Chrom stop and think, but he hated resorting to emotional manipulation. "What would Sumia think of you needlessly risking yourself?"

The silence that followed told the Herjan that his line had hit its mark. When Chrom spoke, his voice was solemn. "If Gangrel is there, I don't want to miss the chance to kill him. And that is why I ride with Sumia, so she can be sure I'm safe."

Silence dragged out once more as Herjan considered his next words. "I will acquiesce on the condition that you swear to put yourself in no unnecessary danger."

Chrom looked at his friend with a crooked grin on his face. "There'll be no danger to put myself in with the two finest Sheperds at my side."

Herjan returned Chrom's grin with a smile. "How are things with you and Sumia, anyway? A little bird told me you two have been getting… _close_."

Chrom's face reddened, drawing a chuckle from his Herjan. "We've, um… Ah, she's quite pleasant to be around, you understand?"

Barely suppressing a giggle, Herjan pushed a little farther. "But, ah… I hear she is making you pies? Rhubarb, if I'm not mistaken?"

The look of surprise on Chrom's face broke the dam on Herjan's laughter. "How did you know?!"

"I see Sumia enter your tent with a pie, and that evening your breath reeks of rhubarb! Half the camp knows, man!"

Chrom, unable to continue simply receiving Herjan's assault, retaliated. "I remember the first time we had this kind of discussion! You spoke so fondly of Marth's legs, even though you thought she was a man! And after her mask broke, when her 'luscious hair tumbled from hiding like a stream thawing in spring, the beauty of her womanhood springing forth as if a blossoming flower rising through the melting snow'?"

"You weren't supposed to read that!" Herjan turned in an attempt to hide his burning face, "The way you and Sumia fawn over each other whenever you're near each other is disturbing!"

"No, Jean! I won't be distracted! I must know!" Chrom pressed forward, pacing to stay in front of Herjan. "Do you plan to ask for Marth's hand when next we see her? I'm sure we could find you a good ring to give her."

Herjan hid his face with both hands and groaned loudly, regretting the things he had said. After a pause, Chrom chose another topic, much to his relief. "But truthfully, is there anyone you are interested in? You know my side of it, so it is only fair."

"Ever since you found me in that field, we've been travelling non-stop." Herjan shrugged dismissively, calming down. "Between reading historic texts, writing strategies and learning how to fight properly, I've hardly had the time to figure out what I even _like_ in women."

Chrom frowned a little. "Only you could take the topic of love and relationships and turn it into something depressing."

"I live to serve, my liege." Herjan swept an arm in front of his abdomen and bent at his waist in a mocking bow.

The prince rolled his eyes at the gesture, "But surely at least one Sheperd has caught your eye? Perhaps Miriel? You're both geniuses, and… er, passionate?"

Herjan eyed Chrom closely, unable to tell if he had been attempting to pass an insult. "The way she sees socializing as a facet of research and an academic pursuit is off-putting."

Chrom held his chin in thought for a moment before speaking. "Maribelle, then? Her dignified bearing would suit you well, I think. That, and Lissa tells me that her legs are worth speaking of."

Herjan let out a laugh as an idea came to him. "Since you've so accurately categorized my apparent preference in females, why not Cordelia? She has legs, maturity, _and_ she's a genius."

"Never figured you to be one for red hair, Jean!" Chrom punched his shoulder in a joking manner. "Shall your poetry turn to summer themes now?"

"Gods, man! I told you before, you weren't supposed to see that! It was a simple writing exercise."

"Mind what you attach to your strategic reports, then!" Chrom leaned in close, "So, Cordelia?" He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Herjan rolled his eyes before standing and clearing his throat. The Prince snickered at the display. "Her legs are the _picture_ of perfection, her hair is a reflection of the promise of peace given by the setting sun! Her passions are liken to the full moon, lighting my way as I wander through this darkest of nights! Oh but for the fate that keeps us apart, I cannot live without her!" He knelt to plead to Chrom, who only laughed harder at his display, "O, mighty Chrom, who art experienced in the romance of Pegasus Knights, how can I win the heart of this fair maiden?"

Chrom took the act in stride, standing with one leg on a chair as he spoke down to his friend, "To capture the heart of any maiden is but a simple task to you, my squire! Speak to her, and be yourself! Do not suffer her to hear your sweetened words. I know thee well, my squire. Your own personality is enough to win the heart of your affections."

They both hold their positions silently for a moment, both near breaking out in laughter. Herjan cracked first, and laughed loudly. "Talk with her you say? Perhaps I might ride with her in the Spear tomorrow!"

Chrom's expression grew serious as the topic shifted back to the coming battle, and he held out an arm. "No matter your motivation, I would be honored to have you fight at my side in that battle, Jean."

Herjan gripped Chrom's forearm tightly in a handshake, his own expression hardening. "It's the best way to ensure your safety. Rest well, Chrom."

A moment later Herjan exited the command tent to find that night had fallen, but a clear sky and mostly full moon lit the ground. He heard several Sheperds talking loudly in the distance, but his immediate attention was drawn to Frederick, who was facing the command tent in his usual spread-foot arms-clasped-behind-back stance.

Thinking nothing of it, Herjan nodded in greeting to Frederick, stepping forward to investigate what the Sheperds were talking about. However, when the knight's head began to track Herjan's movements, he realized what Frederick more than likely overheard.

Herjan turned as if to speak, before he realized that anything he tried to excuse would more than likely only incriminate him. Instead, he opted for something simple. Maintain eye contact… "Frederick."

Frederick, however, did not back down. "Jean."

Defeated, the Herjan lowered his gaze and walked quickly into the darkness of the camp, sincerely hoping that Frederick did not suddenly decide to start making fun of him the way Chrom did. He considered immediately retiring to his tent, skipping his plan to judge the mood of the Sheperds, for fear that they had overheard his declarations as well. He had not walked too far out of the way when a voice called to him from the corner of a tent he had just passed.

"Oy, Jean! Gregor was thinking that you needed the stress easing, so he saved you seat by fire!" The speaker was none but Gregor himself, and Herjan followed him with a reluctant smile. "You should not stress so hard on night before battle! Talk with friends, ease tensions for all, all be better ready for tomorrow fighting!"

The last line heralded their arrival to the primary campfire that the Sheperds had lit. The fire was spaced away from the mess of tents, with several wagons circled around the pit in order to block some visibility of the fire light. Virion, Lon'qu, Sully, Ricken and Gaius all sat around the fire on makeshift seats or on the ground. All present nodded in greeting to Herjan, except for Gaius, who was too enamored with a sweet in his mouth.

Gregor helped Herjan onto the side of a log that he had prepared as a seat, which was unfortunately(For Herjan) next to Gaius, who still smelled like the mire they had slogged through. As Gregor returned to his own seat on the other side of Herjan, Lon'qu began to stare hard at the old mercenary. Given the lack of negative attention to himself, Herjan assumed that his fear of being overheard had been ill-founded. Sully broke the silence, calling the gathering's attention to her.

"So Jean, Ruffles made a good point while Gregor went off to fetch you. Something about 'the confidence of the strategist reflecting the feasibility of the plan'." Virion looked pleased with having Sully quote his line. "So, what d'you think? We got a shot at rescuing the Exalt tomorrow?"

Herjan flashed a crooked grin as the logical side of his mind intuitively figured the mood and morale of the Sheperds, or at least this small group of them. They were anxious, possibly born from doubt given the weight of the upcoming engagement. Herjan sat up straight and swept his arms outward in a move to convey confidence. "We haven't lost a single skirmish to date! I have every confidence that tomorrow's battle will be as any other. I almost want to hold back part of our force to give the Plegians a fighting chance."

The present crowd laughed, and he felt he had kept morale raised. Gaius straightened to speak above Herjan's arm, pulling forth a small sack from inside his cloak. "I would say we should make bets on who will perform better tomorrow, but I wouldn't put it past Bubbles to alter our placements so that he wins. Anyone want to roll some bones instead?" His hand darted inside the sack, extracting two small wooden cubes.

Gregor and Sully both placed in their starting bet of ten silver coins alongside Gaius' bet. Herjan chose to bet in also, although he had little to no idea how the game was played despite seeing it played many times. The others picked up on this, passing him the dice when it was his turn and prompting him to bet when appropriate. Before long Herjan found his coins moving toward Gaius, and he decided to back out with minor losses. Stifling a yawn, he bid goodnight to those present, and wandered back into tents.

Away from the expectant eyes of his friends and peers, Herjan let himself relax out of the guise of the cocksure tactician. In truth, he was uncertain of the overall outcome of the coming battle. He had not been dishonest, he was sure that it would be a victory for the Ylisseans, but there would undoubtedly be casualties. Knowing that he could not prevent these casualties, no matter how perfect his strategy, made him apprehensive

Herjan looked up as a change in the sky caught his attention, and he saw the clouds part to reveal a mostly full moon. His thoughts turned to his own mortality, and whether or not anyone in the Sheperds besides the Prince would care if he died. His earlier conversation with Chrom had exposed his lack of intimacy, romantic or otherwise, with the other Sheperds. So engrossed with his own thoughts, he did not notice a figure detach itself from the shadows and approach him.

"Herjan," Cordelia started with a greeting, but the rest of her sentence was lost in surprise to Herjan's reaction.

"Gods!" Herjan had yelled jumped, his feet and hands moving to draw a sword that was not at his side. Seeing that the source of his surprise was not attacking, he calmed enough to recognize the situation before returning to a relaxed posture. His mind coalesced, but he found that he couldn't rid himself of the last thoughts he had. "Oh, Cordelia! What can I do for you?"

Cordelia gave him an odd look for his reaction, as she had not been expecting him to be surprised. "I came to report that the camp is all quiet and our supplies are in order for tomorrow's battle." Her weight shifted from one foot to the other. "Well, I actually wanted to ask you about something, if you don't mind."

Herjan's heart rate quickened, but he kept his composure. "Ask away, I'm not at all busy."

Her face brightened with a smile, and she began to speak at a faster pace. "Good! I was wondering if you could tell me where I'll be positioned in tomorrow's battle?"

"You and Sumia will be part of a small, fast strike force that will take out the enemy's commander…" Herjan paused to gather his thoughts. That had not been what he was expecting her to ask.

But Cordelia pressed before he could continue. "And Chrom? Where will the Prince be positioned? Will he be riding with this strike force?"

In that moment, Herjan immediately regretted most of his words and actions in the last hour. Later, he would wonder why he had expected anything else from her. With a short sigh, he answered her question in a reluctant monotone. "Chrom will be riding with Sumia, I'll be riding with you."

Cordelia's expression darkened and she looked toward the ground as she gave an almighty sigh. "I suppose that makes sense…"

Herjan mused that they could have cut her disappointment with a knife and served it to the Sheperds for breakfast in the morning. Overcome with the sudden desire to no longer be near Cordelia, he forced a yawn, "Oh… It's rather late, I should get to my cot. Good night, Cordelia."

Cordelia didn't look up or respond as Herjan quickly walked to his tent. He felt slightly bad for leaving her alone, but he also recognized that being near her would only anger him.

Reaching his tent, Herjan flung himself face-first onto his cot, not bothering to undress. After a moment of silence, he cursed at himself into his pillow. "Stupid, idiot Chrom. He's the only one in the entire camp who doesn't know. Why did I listen to him?" Finding it difficult to breath, Herjan rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling of his tent and wonder about the horrors of interacting with Cordelia tomorrow until he sleep claimed him.

* * *

**A/N:**

Time skips. They'll happen, occasionally. I'll do what I can to make it obvious ASAP, but the fic will be written as if those things had happened in time. Chapter 8, The Grimleal, was skipped prior to this chapter, in case it wasn't obvious.

I have no misconceptions about the quality of my writing. I know it's not the best. But if you want to leave a review pointing that out, then please give some direction on how I can do better, not just telling me to give up, otherwise your 'review' will be deleted and ignored. That said, actual reviews are more than welcome.

On that note I do feel that this chapter is better than the first. I've taken to researching different aspects of writing as they crop up in a chapter, and I've widened the extent of editing and review that I perform on a chapter before publishing it. My only real issue with this chapter is length. Next chapter will cover a longer period of time, so we'll see how that works out.(Main question for my writing style at this point is my lack of using he said/she said or anything similar most of the time. Is it ever confusing as to who is speaking?)


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